


Chance Encounters

by droideka



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Humor, Smut, but at least he gets pleasantly surprised, poor guy, the only person who doesn't know how this story is going to end is Garrus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:51:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/droideka/pseuds/droideka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of things that are uncertain in Garrus Vakarian’s life. His new job as a C-Sec investigator, his relationship with his father, the mess that is his personal life… and most pressing of all, how this human woman ended up passed out on his couch.</p>
<p>Slightly AU, set pre-ME1.<br/>Written for the Mass Effect Big Bang 2016<br/><a href="http://jarensbud.deviantart.com/art/Chance-Encounters-617742549">Artwork by MizDirected!</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Cheers

Garrus woke to the soft chiming of his omnitool. It was the only indication that morning had come.

While the Presidium maintained a galactic standard twenty hour day/night cycle, no such order existed in the Wards. There were no simulated sunrises, and no standardized hours – the Wards were always dark. Large swaths of the Wards’ arms brightened and darkened as entire cultural enclaves woke and slept. Shops and restaurants maintained their own hours according to their own calendars, and vagabonds wandered from district to district, day and night, following the ebb and flow of alcohol.

Maintaining some kind of schedule amid the constant frenzy of activity was the only way to stay sane. Especially if you were toiling away in a sea of endless paperwork, as Garrus Vakarian was.

A glance at his omnitool informed him that his shift had ended thirteen hours ago. Five of those hours had been spent in a crappy little club in Zakera Ward with Ridgefield and Lamont, racking up an impressive tab and shouting at the VI DJ over the roar of the speakers. He sat up in his bed and put his head in his hands. There had been drinks. There had been dancing. There may have been singing. Spirits, he hoped there hadn’t been singing.

He groaned as his memories slowly settled back into place.

…

“Here’s to the greatest partner a man could ask for!” Lamont crowed, raising his overflowing glass. He towered over the small crowd that had gathered around them, long limbed and broad shouldered. His blue eyes were filled with laughter, and his wide jaw was set in a grin. “And here’s to the greatest damn detective C-Sec will ever see! May he continue to kick ass and take names as long as he lives!”

The crowd cheered. They raised their glasses and toasted to Garrus’ career, downing the drinks bought for them on Lamont’s tab. Lamont polished off his drink with a whoop and Ridgefield followed close behind. Garrus flexed his mandibles in amusement and drank more moderately from his glass. Lamont groaned.

“Come on, Vakarian. This may be our last night together as partners. Don’t let me down now.”

Lamont had been Garrus’ partner since he had joined the small precinct in Aroch ward. In the beginning, Garrus had considered him a mentor. Lamont was several years Garrus’ senior, and had spent nearly ten years as a cop on Earth before joining C-Sec. Garrus’ formality and deference didn’t last long, however.  Lamont was a good partner and a good cop: level headed, resourceful, and clever. But he was no mentor.

Garrus turned to Ridgefield, who was standing apart from them in the middle of the dispersing crowd. Garrus was looking for support from the more sensible of the two humans, but Ridgefield only passed a dark hand over his tightly coiled hair and shrugged.

“He has a point,” Ridgefield admitted.

Of the three of them, Ridgefield was the junior officer. He had only recently joined their precinct, fresh off of his rounds in the Presidium and only a few months out of the academy. Still had the stench of politics on him, Lamont had remarked. But Garrus had immediately taken a liking to the younger human. Ridgefield had a natural affinity for the work, something that Garrus admired. He was a smart man with seemingly endless patience, diligent and thoughtful.

Garrus gave his partner a sidelong look and flicked his mandibles in feigned irritation. Lamont mimed a drinking motion and then flashed a toothy grin and a thumbs-up – a gesture Garrus had become familiar with over the course of their partnership. Garrus made a show of rolling his eyes – another gesture he’d picked up from Lamont – and downed the last of his drink, setting the glass down on the bar with a clatter. Their voices overlapped as the humans expressed their approval.

“Now that’s what I’m _talking about_!” said Lamont.

“Look who’s finally loosening up!” said Ridgefield.

Lamont leaned against the bar, crossing his long arms over his chest. “Christ, Vakarian. This isn’t your funeral we’re talking about. You made detective, it’s a promotion. I thought turians were supposed to be into that shit?”

Garrus let out a rough laugh. “Maybe I’m just not a very good turian?”

“Well, you’d make one hell of a hanar.” Ridgefield set his long face into a neutral expression, slackening his heavy brows and letting his brown eyes go blank. “‘I know what you are thinking. Did this one fire six shots or five?’” he deadpanned.

“‘Go ahead, make this one’s day,’” Lamont replied, in the same placid deadpan.

“‘Now you know why they call this one Dirty Hanar,’” Ridgefield began.

“‘Every dirty job that comes along,’” Lamont finished.

“Cute.” Garrus flicked his mandibles. “Are you done?”

Lamont thought hard about it for a moment. “Yeah, I’m done.”

“We can head straight for the embassy after this round,” Ridgefield said, trying to get the attention of the bartender, “get your citizenship sorted out.”

“Nah, he doesn’t even need us to go with him, considering how often he has to march his bony ass to the Presidium for a reprimand.” Lamont hummed the opening bars to a funeral march and Ridgefield laughed.

“Though I have to say,” Lamont was grinning again, his bushy eyebrows raised up almost to his dirty blonde curls, “that last stunt you pulled was truly inspired. I didn’t even know golgi fruit _could_ explode.”

The golgi fruit in question had belonged to a vendor in the Aroch markets, and they had left a gaping hole in his last two pay checks.

“It didn’t matter, in the end.” There was a bitter edge to Garrus’ voice. “The perp ran.”

Lamont let out a long suffering sigh. “You’re not seriously still moping about that. Shit happens.”

“He was the biggest red sand pusher in Aroch Ward and I lost him.” Garrus scowled, his mandibles pressed tight against his face. “That doesn’t just happen.”

“Is this another turian thing I’m not getting, or is the stick up your ass just particularly large?”

Ridgefield laughed and, in spite of himself, Garrus did too. But still he shook his head. “Look, I really appreciate this. I’m just not in the mood.”

Lamont groaned. “You’re killing me, Vakarian! You miss a bust weeks ago and now it’s all you can talk about?”

Garrus didn’t reply. A silence fell over the group, filled only by the pounding of the speakers.

It was more than just the botched arrest. Garrus had been prepared to be reprimanded for his failure. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the dressing down he got for failing to follow orders. In his view, getting red sand off the Ward was worth a few dozen burst golgi fruit. But apparently his view was not shared by the Executor.

If Garrus was being honest – and turian honesty was one hell of a thing – he would have admitted that he felt apprehensive about this new promotion. He should have felt honored to have this responsibility placed on him. He should have been proud to have this opportunity to serve. Instead, he couldn’t help but worry this was a life sentence to a job he wasn’t suited for.

He wondered, not for the first time, what his life would have been like if he’d gone on to train as a Spectre.

The anger had long since passed, but Garrus still preferred not to think about the hypotheticals of his Spectre candidacy. His father had done what he thought was right, and that was… well, it was something.

Given that they hadn’t spoken since Solana’s promotion to full citizenship, it was a pleasant surprise when his father had called the day before to congratulate him. He was proud, and it should have made Garrus happy to see him that way. But he couldn’t help but wonder how much of that pride was seeing his own success mirrored in his son.

Finally, Ridgefield spoke.

“Listen, Vakarian. You’re going to be a _detective._ You know what that means? It means you have the opportunity to do some real good for this place. More than just walking the beat and writing up speeding tickets. You can _be something._ One day, bad guys are going to know your name. And you know what? They’re going to trip over themselves trying to stay the hell out of your way.”

“I would know. You scare the shit out of me too, man,” Lamont added.

Garrus laughed. With an air of finality Ridgefield signaled to the bartender for another round.

“I know I should be celebrating. I just can’t help but feel like it’s not enough. My dad –”

“Whoa, whoa.” Lamont put up a hand. “I am not drunk enough to hear about your daddy issues, Vakarian.” He leaned over to the approaching bartender. “It’s time for some shots.”

…

Garrus didn’t bother to dress. Lamont wasn’t due at his apartment for another hour, and he had the foresight to close the shutters on his apartment’s windows before collapsing last night. He walked from his tiny bedroom to his tiny living room and then made for the tiny kitchen tucked into the corner. He rifled through the contents of his cabinet, pulling out a small container of coffee.

It was a human drink that Ridgefield had introduced him to and that Garrus had found entirely unappealing at first. Burnt beans soaked in water? It had sounded awful. But one hellish thirty six hour shift had made him desperate enough to take the mug offered to him.

Thank the Spirits for small achiral miracles.

His little coffee maker gurgled as the water heated. Garrus leaned against the counter as he waited, taking in the sight of his untidy apartment. It was in desperate need of cleaning, but he’d hardly been home the past few weeks. His eyes passed over the remains of two weeks of takeout littering his coffee table, the papers strewn across his desk, the disheveled human lying on his couch –

Wait.

…

“You know what your problem is, Vakarian?” Lamont slurred.

“What is my problem, Lamont?” Garrus slurred back.

Lamont leaned forward and gave Garrus a conspiratorial smile. “You need to get laid _._ ” Garrus roared with laughter, leaning dangerously far back on his bar stool. “I’m serious! When was the last time you had shexu- sexshu-” Lamont made a face and Ridgefield grinned over the rim of his drink. “ _Sexual_ relations, Vakarian. With a real human being. I mean.” Lamont gestured dismissively. “You know what I mean.”

Garrus shook his head. “I’m not answering that, Lamont. I plead the fifth.”

“You don’t even know what the fifth _is!_ ” Lamont protested.

“Must have been a long time,” Ridgefield said, trying and failing to stifle his own laughter. “I bet his balls are as blue as –” He paused and looked over at Garrus, suddenly serious. “Wait. Do you even…?”

“I’m not answering that either, Ridgefield.”

“Fine.” Lamont raised his glass and tipped it in Garrus’ direction. “But my point still stands. You need to get some, and soon.”

Ridgefield craned his neck to peer over Garrus’ shoulder. He nodded at someone farther down the bar, and Garrus turned to follow his gaze. “What about her? She’s cute, isn’t she?”

“Ridgefield. She is the only other turian in this bar.”

“Yeah, but she’s cute isn’t she?”

The turian in question was cute. She was dressed smartly in Cipritine style, her long sleeves brushing across the bar and her hood pushed back over the elegant curve of her cowl. Her white markings fanned out pleasingly across her face, and her green eyes were watchful as she scanned the club. Her delicate mandibles flared when she noticed Garrus watching her.

Garrus quickly turned back to his drink, feeling the blue flush creep up his neck.

Lamont slugged his shoulder. “Ahhh, so she is cute! Go talk to her, you fuck.”

“Come on, what have you got to lose?” Ridgefield pressed a shot into his hand.

Garrus contemplated the drink in his hand. Without another word, he knocked it back and set the glass down on the bar with a little too much force. Ridgefield and Lamont gave a cheer, patting his back and egging him on as he turned toward the turian at the bar.

…

It was one thing to not remember someone’s name after hooking up, it was another thing entirely to not remember someone’s species. Garrus couldn’t have been so drunk to screw up so spectacularly.

Right?

He passed a hand over his face. He was a detective now. Surely he could solve this one case.

His houseguest was a human woman. A tan arm was thrown across her face, framed by a tangled mass of black hair. The other hand was resting on the swell of her breasts, rising and falling with her even breathing. The human had a small frame – her feet didn’t reach the end of his couch – but from the definition in her bare arms he could see that she was athletic. She was dressed in what looked like half of an Alliance combat uniform: a white undershirt and navy camo pants. The coat lay discarded on the floor, next to a pair of worn boots.

A marine. Probably on shore leave. Not an uncommon sight in the human enclaves in Zakera Ward, but how she had managed to find her way to his apartment in Aroch was still a mystery.

It was probably a mystery that would be best solved while wearing clothes.

He was creeping back toward the bedroom when the coffee pot gave a shrill beep, and the human on his couch stirred. She lifted her arm and scanned the room through bleary eyes. She sat up suddenly when she caught sight of the nude turian standing by the bedroom door.

Garrus could feel his spirit leaving his body as she gave him a once over.

“Hi,” she said in greeting.

“… Hi,” he responded.

“You’re not Sergeant Lakeman, are you?”

“No.” He coughed. “My name is Garrus Vakarian. This is, ah, my apartment.”

“Ahhhh,” she said, as if that meant something to her. “Yuna Shepard. And this is not my friend’s apartment.”

Shepard had a striking face, with high cheekbones and a wide jaw. Her eyes were large and expressive, framed by her heavy lids and dark brows. Her full lips turned upward into a smile, and he realized that he had been staring.

“Do you want some coffee?” he blurted out, in a desperate attempt to break the silence.

“Oh, God. I’d love some.” Shepard pressed a hand to her forehead, letting her fingers settle into the tangles of her hair. “I have such a headache.”

“Mmm.” Garrus tried to sound sympathetic. Failing to do so, he turned on his heel and walked to the kitchen, where he busied himself pouring two mugs of coffee. “I’m sorry, I only have levo sugar.” He rounded the counter that separated his kitchen from his living room, holding the hot mugs in both of his hands. “It tastes the same, but it’s not –” He stopped mid-sentence, confused by the human’s intense stare. “Ah, do you take sugar?”

“Did we fuck?” she asked, as if she were asking him if he’d left the stove on.

The horror he felt must have shown on his face, because the human laughed.

“You don’t have to look so enthused. I’m gonna guess that we didn’t.” She swung her legs over the edge of the couch, resting her hands on her knees. Her eyes swept over his small apartment before coming back to Garrus’ face. They were a rich dark brown, and her gaze was sharp, scrutinizing.

Garrus shifted his weight, uncomfortable. “Ah, no. We didn’t… intercourse.” He suppressed a groan. Excellent word choice, Vakarian. Dirty and clinical. If she wasn’t uncomfortable before, she definitely would be now. But when he looked back at the human on his couch, she only gave him a wry smile.

To her credit, the human didn’t seem entirely repulsed by the idea.

“I thought I might’ve changed my mind about the turian at the bar. I thought I’d given him a pretty definitive ‘no’ with that hit to his jaw. Mandible? Jaw. ” She rested her chin in her hand, looking amused. “But _apparently_ it was something of a turn on. Interspecies communication error, I guess.” She was still looking at him with that penetrating stare, and Garrus felt the urge to look away. Suddenly, she made a face. “You’ve got different markings. I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this yet.”

“It’s alright,” Garrus managed. Remembering the mugs in his hands, he moved to the couch to hand her one.

“Thanks.” Shepard lifted the steaming mug to her lips, closing her eyes and taking a moment to savor the aroma. Garrus found his eyes lingering on her full lips, and the vermillion smudge they left on the rim of the mug. Her dark eyes opened and he hurriedly looked down at his own coffee.

“So if we didn’t hook up, how did I end up here?” Shepard asked.

“I was hoping you could tell me that,” Garrus answered.

“Wait.” She frowned, setting down her coffee. “Where is here, anyway?”

“Block 242, Aroch Ward. Apartment 1418.”

Shepard looked down at her palm, where Garrus could see a smudged message written in black ink.

“… Oh. That’s a nine, not a four.”

That was one mystery solved.

“And how did you get in here? Did I leave the door unlocked?”

“Yeah, let’s go with that.” She ran a hand through her dark hair, looking evasive. Garrus raised his brow plates and made a mental note to change his locks.

“Well,” she said, with some satisfaction. “I guess I’m glad it wasn’t a hook up.” Garrus was surprised at the way his heart sank when she said that. And the way it shot up into his throat when she continued, a smile on her painted lips. “Because you and me? I would’ve liked to remember that.”

Garrus was still standing in dumbfounded silence when the door chimed. Shepard stood, stretched, and picked up her coffee on her way to answer it. “You go dress,” she said over her shoulder. “I got it.” In a daze, Garrus did as he was told, walking into the bedroom and picking up and putting on the nearest pair of pants he could find.

From the other room he could hear the door slide open and then Shepard saying, “good morning, Garrus Vakarian’s residence. How may I help you?”

And Lamont’s stunned reply, “I. Uh. Was supposed to meet him here? I’m early, but uh…”

Garrus poked his head out of the bedroom, his mandibles spread in irritation. “This couldn’t have waited, Lamont?”

“I brought doughnuts,” Lamont explained, feebly. “But I mean if you’re busy…”

“No, no. It’s fine. I should get going anyway, my buddies are probably wondering where I am.” Shepard crossed to the other side of the apartment to pick up her coat and boots. She paused at the bedroom door to lay a hand on Garrus’ arm, and he felt a flush of heat spread across his chest. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Lamont stood aside as Shepard brushed past him toward the open door. She stopped in the doorway, turning to address Garrus one more time. “Listen. I’m here for another two days before I ship out. You should look me up.”

“I will,” Garrus said, weakly.

“Good.” She nodded and then smiled as she turned to leave. “See you later, sailor.”

Lamont let the door slide shut before facing Garrus with the biggest shit eating grin that he had ever seen on his partner’s face.


	2. Second Chances

“What do you _mean_ you’re not going to see her again?!” Lamont cried, spewing crumbs across Garrus’ counter. With an impatient flick of his mandibles, Garrus swept a hand over the counter and spilled the crumbs into the garbage can on the floor.

“Because,” he said irritably, “I’ve got no shot with her.”

“Got no –” Lamont shook his head in disbelief. “Vakarian, she was about to jump you.”

“Hold up,” Ridgefield interjected. He was leaning on the counter beside Lamont, poking at his omnitool. He spread his fingers to pull up a screen, swiveled it around for them all to see. “This your girl, Vakarian?” On the screen was what looked to be Shepard’s enlistment photo. She looked sharp in her new combat uniform, back straight and hands folded in a parade rest. Her dark hair was braided away from her face and twisted into a tight bun beneath her beret, smooth and shiny like polished stone. And although she was not smiling, there was a devilish mirth beneath the heavy lids of her brown eyes.

“She’s not my girl,” Garrus protested. “She’s just… _a_ girl.”

“So it is her.” Ridgefield whistled. “She’s hot.”

“She’s a fox!” Lamont waved his doughnut wildly in the air, scattering more crumbs. “And this idiot won’t call her because he’s got ‘no shot’!”

“Hmm.” Ridgefield scrubbed at the stubble on his chin, contemplating the photo.

“Come on, Lamont.” Garrus leaned on the counter, opposite the two human men. He stared into his cold coffee, still thinking of that smudge of red she’d left on the other mug. He thought of the fullness of her lips, the way they spread when she smiled. He thought about how soft they would be, pressed against the pad of his finger. Garrus shook his head. “A girl like her? A _human_ girl? And a turian? A turian like _me_? There’s no way.”

“You really are trying to kill me, Vakarian.” Lamont was glaring at him now. “You mean to tell me that a gorgeous girl literally wanders into your life, and not only does she _not_ run for the hills upon seeing your sorry ass, she flirts with you and then asks you to call her? And now you’re not even going to try to see her again?” He took a bite of his doughnut, spoke again through a mouthful of food. “That’s bullshit.”

Garrus bristled. “It’s not that simple.”

“Really? Because it seems pretty simple to me.”

“She’s human, Lamont. The Relay 314 Incident was twenty years ago.”

“Yeah, and I’m still mad at you for that,” Lamont said, heavy with sarcasm.

“You and I may be ‘friends,’” he flexed his two fingers, mimicking a human gesture of derision, “but not everyone is as ‘chummy’ as you and I are.”

“I think you’re making shit up, Vakarian. So why don’t you tell me what the real problem is.” He took a sip of his coffee, then jabbed the doughnut in his direction. “Also, stop using air quotes. You look fucking ridiculous, man.”

“I’m not lying, Lamont I just –”Garrus passed a hand over his face, his mandibles spread in frustration. “What if things don’t work out?”

“Then you don’t see her again! What’s the big deal, do you seriously think a bad date would cause some kind of diplomatic incident?”

“Of course not. I just mean that our species, well, they don’t … ah, _know_ … each other very well.”

Lamont stared at him. His mouth dropped open when comprehension came. “Oh. _Oh._ ” Then he grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Feeling lucky, huh? You wondering if anything’s changed? I know it’s obviously been a while, so it’s not unreasonable for you to ask me.”

“Screw you, Lamont.”

Lamont laughed, then leveled his gaze on Garrus’ face. “Listen,” he said, in a voice that was probably his best attempt at reassuring. “What’s the worst thing that could happen? You fuck up. You’re embarrassed. You don’t see each other again. It’s not the end of the world, right?” The look that Garrus gave his partner was withering. “Back me up here, Ridgefield.”

They both turned to Ridgefield, who had been conspicuously silent through the whole exchange. The man held up a finger before going back to his omnitool.

“What, you got a scheduling conflict or something?” Lamont grumbled.

“No,” he said at last, closing the screen and grinning at his friends. “But you better make up your mind, Vakarian, because Shepard is meeting us at twelve standard for drinks.”

“How did you…?” Garrus began, his mandibles slack with shock.

Ridgefield shrugged. “She’s on the extranet. Didn’t they make you a detective or something?”

…

A cursory extranet search – conducted in Garrus’ kitchen on Ridgefield’s omnitool – revealed that the directions Shepard sent over led to a twenty-hour dive in the more disreputable end of the Ward. The directions sent Ridgefield’s small aircar darting around buildings and weaving through lanes of traffic to follow the serpentine path.  Garrus watched as ribbons of flickering neon filled the windows as they passed, each one advertising increasingly unsavory goods and services as they traveled to the other side of the Ward.

Garrus was nervous. It was an unwelcome feeling.

It wasn’t like this was his first time. He was no fledgling in a darkened barracks. It wasn’t even his first time going home with a stranger, as he’d first believed. But before today he had never even considered the possibility of an interspecies relationship, let alone one with a human partner.

Centuries of cultural exchange had normalized interspecies relationships on the cosmopolitan Citadel. But beyond the major galactic trading hubs, they were nearly unheard of. Bad blood runs thick, and old prejudices live long. Particularly between humans and turians. No amount of credits could ease bad blood between turians, and if there was one thing that humanity had brought with them in abundance, it was old prejudices. Taken together it meant that turian-human relations were a volatile mess on both the personal and the political level. But until today, it had been no problem of his.

Truthfully, he had never really considered humans attractive. He could see how their wide, expressive faces could be considered endearing _._  But there was nothing elegant or graceful about their short, stubby limbs or their thick waists. And all that hair! How did humanity manage with all that hair? He couldn’t imagine how much time humans must spend shaving, trimming, and combing all the hair that grew on their little bodies.

All of which made his attraction to Shepard frustratingly inexplicable. Like every other human, Shepard had a small build and short limbs. She had light brown skin and dark black hair. Altogether unremarkable.

But something about her had awakened his curiosity. He wanted to comb his fingers through her hair, feel the strands between his fingers. He wanted to touch her full lips, feel the softness of them on his skin. He wanted to feel the weight of her arms around his cowl, the press of her legs around his waist.

Lamont’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

“Vakarian. Vakarian!” Lamont had twisted around in his seat to fix his clear gaze on Garrus’ face. He smiled sweetly when he caught his attention. “What’re you thinking about there, buddy?”

“Nothing.” Garrus flicked his mandibles. “Are we there yet?”

“Yeah,” Ridgefield answered. He banked gently to the left and the aircar made a smooth descent into the cavernous parking garage that serviced the surrounding area.

“Right. Which gives you just enough time to tell us the plan,” Lamont said.

“What plan?” Garrus asked flatly.

“ _The_ plan. You like this girl, don’t you?”

“Yes…”

“Then you need a plan.”

Garrus gave an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know, Lamont. I was thinking I’d start off by talking to her and see how that went.”

“Yeah, but about what? You know what you want to talk about, right?”

“What?”

The aircar settled into a parking space and Ridgefield killed the ignition. He turned in his seat and Garrus found himself staring down both of his human friends.

“Talk about something meaningful,” Ridgefield said. “Your family, your work, your goals. That kind of thing. You’re a thoughtful guy, show her that.”

“Yeah, let her know that you’re thoughtful and shit,” Lamont chimed in. “But nothing too heavy. Spare her the daddy issues.”

“Yeah. Something light,” Ridgefield agreed.

“Something light and meaningful, you know what I mean?”

Garrus’ mandibles were pressed flat against his face. “No.”

Before either of them could answer, there was a rap at the window.

“License and registration, please.” The voice was low, muffled through the glass.

“Who the fuck –” Lamont began, jabbing at the console to roll down the window.

The tinted glass slid down, revealing a pair of expressive brown eyes, long dark hair, and a pair of painted lips set into a smirk.

“Sir,” Shepard said, leaning on the car door. “Are you aware of how fucking slow you were driving?”

“Ha!” Lamont exclaimed, too loudly. “I get it. It’s because we’re cops.”

Garrus hit the release and the door swung open with a wheeze. He clamored out of the car, turned, and his eyes fell on Yuna Shepard. She had changed into a set of civvies: a black tank top under a leather jacket, denim jeans, and her boots. Her hair was pulled into a loose pony tail at her shoulder, and there was a cigarette tucked behind her ear. She straightened when she caught sight of him, turning away from Ridgefield’s window.

“Hi,” she said in greeting.

“Hi,” he responded.

“And hi to you two.” She turned her head to direct the greeting to the two men in the aircar.

Ridgefield extended a hand through the window and Shepard took it. “Isaiah Ridgefield. We spoke earlier over the extranet.”He swiveled his head to sweep his gaze around the parking garage, as if he were looking for something. He turned back to Shepard and lowered his voice to say, “I got the goods if you‘ve got the money.”

Shepard laughed. “I get it. It’s because you’re cops. Pretty crap ones though, that’s entrapment.”

“I never said we were good cops!” Lamont called from within the car.

“Ignore them,” Garrus said, hoping that Shepard wouldn’t notice the blue tinge beneath his mandibles.

“Can I just say,” Lamont crowded into the window next to Ridgefield, “it is _so_ good to finally meet you, Yuna. May I call you Yuna?” Lamont didn’t wait for a response. “Our Garrus here has told us so much about you, and we’ve just been _dying_ to finally meet you.”

There was no way she could miss the blue flush that had spread across his neck.

Shepard turned her dark eyes toward Garrus. The corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. “Only good things, I hope.”

“There are only good things to say,” Garrus managed.

She laughed at that. “Wow. Okay, smooth talker. Give a girl some kinda warning before going for the heart like that.”

Shepard tossed her head in the direction of the exit. “C’mon. If we go now there might still be seats at the bar.” She brushed past him on her way to the exit, close enough for Garrus to catch the scent of gardenias in her hair.

“Oh.” She paused just beyond the car, turning to address them over her shoulder. “And try not to look so much like cops.” She winked one of her dark eyes and started back toward the exit.

Lamont appeared at Garrus’ side and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Wow.” He gave his shoulder an amicable shake. “You’re fucked.”

Garrus rolled his shoulder to dislodge Lamont and started after Shepard.

“Just remember what I said.” Lamont kept his pace. “Light and meaningful.”

…

“See, and that’s where you’re _wrong._ ” Lamont slapped the bar with the flat of his palm and Garrus’ drink rattled on its coaster. “One elcor sized duck is still a fucking duck. A hundred duck sized elcor can organize _. That’s the difference._ ”

Shepard lifted a dark brow and her lips curled into a smile around her cigarette. “Sure, Lamont. Sure.” She reached for her drink.

“The real question here is whether these elcor are armed,” Garrus countered.

“What the fuck is a duck sized elcor going to use as a weapon, Vakarian,” Lamont demanded.

Garrus didn’t miss a beat. “A .38.”

“Okay,” Lamont said slowly, “and how is a duck sized elcor supposed to fire a .38?”

“Very carefully,” Shepard answered, sipping delicately from her glass.

“Oh, come on!” Lamont protested.

“Ask a stupid question and get a stupid answer, Lamont,” Shepard replied.

Garrus laughed and Lamont shot him a glare. “You shut the fuck up.”

Garrus put up his hands and shrugged. “I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them.”

Lamont opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced by Shepard’s upheld finger.

“Mm!” Shepard made a noise around her glass, then tilted her head back to finish the last of her drink. “I love this song!”

“Someone’s a fan of the oldies,” Ridgefield observed.

Shepard looked offended. “It’s not that old!”

“I’m pretty sure they played this at Lamont’s prom night, it’s that old,” said Ridgefield.

“Watch it,” Lamont growled.

“Fuck off! Do you know how hard it is to find current radio stations out in the asscrack of nowhere?” ~~~~

“I do, but there’s no accounting for taste,” Ridgefield replied.

Shepard ground out her cigarette in the ashtray and slid off the bar stool.

“No, I’m just playing! Don’t leave!” Ridgefield pleaded through his laughter.

“What in God’s name are you doing, Shepard?” Lamont asked.

“What does it look like?” She was bouncing in place, bobbing her head and shrugging her shoulders as she slipped out of her jacket. “I’m gonna dance.”

“… If that’s what you call dancing, then okay.”

Shepard threw up her middle finger over her shoulder as she headed toward the dance floor.

Ridgefield’s hand on his shoulder pulled Garrus’ attention away from Shepard’s swaying hips.  “So?” he asked, a smile spread across his face.

“So what?”

“So what about Shepard!”

“What about her?”

“What about her?” Ridgefield shook his head. “Vakarian, she’s great. She’s sweet, she’s funny, she’s fucking gorgeous –”

“She can’t dance for shit, though,” Lamont added, still watching Shepard’s retreating frame. “Jesus.”

“And,” Ridgefield continued, “she’s really into you.”

“Me?” Garrus shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”

“Are you kidding? She’s been flirting with you all night.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t –” Ridgefield passed a hand over his eyes. “Help me out here, Lamont.”

“Okay, that girl is a liar because _that_ move hasn’t been seen since I was a kid,” Lamont said, still watching Shepard. “She’s into the oldies. Take note there, Vakarian.”

“What I mean,” Garrus began, shifting his attention back to Ridgefield, “is that maybe she’s just looking for a good time before she leaves.”

“And who says you can’t be the one to give it to her?”

Garrus felt his neck flush. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I didn’t either, but good to know where your head’s at.” Ridgefield looked smug.

“I’m not sure that guy deserved to be hit in the face like that,” Lamont observed. “But then again I’m not sure she did it on purpose.”

“And anyway I thought turians were into the casual thing?” Ridgefield asked.

“It’s not that.”

“Well, then what is it?”

“If she were looking for something casual, why wouldn’t she go for someone more… you know.”

“Human?” Ridgefield finished.

“Why would a human girl like her go for a turian like me? Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”

“No.” Ridgefield’s expression was even. “You’re a good man, Vakarian. And I think that she sees that.”

“Guys,” Lamont was shaking Ridgefield’s shoulder. “She’s gotten so far off beat she’s come around again. Oh.” The shaking stopped. “Nevermind. She’s off again.”

“You obviously really like this girl and she really obviously likes you. Why are you so set on denying it?”

“Because, Ridgefield,” Garrus put a hand to his head and his mandibles spread in exasperation, “what if there’s a reason humans and turians don’t get together? What if it just doesn’t work?”

“Well, you won’t find out if you don’t try, right?”

Garrus didn’t answer, instead turning his eyes down to the melting ice in his drink.

Ridgefield sighed. “Look, Vakarian. This isn’t some corny romance vid. Destiny isn’t going to intervene, here. Nothing’s going to happen if you don’t make it happen.”

“But what if –”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Lamont interrupted. “Please just go help her, Vakarian. Before she starts doing the Macarena.”

“The Maca– what?”

“Just _go!_ ”

Lamont shoved him toward the dance floor, and before Garrus could even reconsider he was caught in the press of bodies.  He caught sight of Shepard dancing alone, in the thick of the crowd and dangerously close to the speakers.

“Shepard!” Shepard turned at the sound of her name. Her cheeks were flushed, and beads of sweat stood out against her forehead. She had redrawn her ponytail to keep the hair off of her neck, but the loose tendrils at her crown lay slick against her skin.

The way that her eyes seemed to brighten when she saw him was enough to make his heart pound.

“Vakarian!” She grinned at him. “What’re you doing out here?”

“I’m here to take you in.” He had to shout to be heard over the music.

“Take me in?” She looked confused for a moment, then embarrassed. “Is this about that guy from earlier? Because that was an accident.”

“No, this is about the crime against the galaxy you’re committing on this dance floor.”

Shepard put a hand to her chest, looking appalled. “Excuse you. My dancing is _fine._ ”

She put some extra swing in her hips to prove her point, but only succeeded in pushing herself farther off beat. Garrus couldn’t help but laugh, which only made Shepard indignant.

“Okay, wise ass. What’s wrong with my dancing?”

“Where to start…”

“You know my mother always said if you don’t have something nice to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all.”

“But your mother has never seen you dance, has she?”

Garrus knew immediately that he’d hit a nerve. The playful spark went out of her eye and her painted lips drew into a tight line. Her voice was dangerously quiet when she spoke. “Fuck you.”

Shepard turned away from him to head back toward the bar, and without thinking Garrus reached out and caught her arm.

Garrus felt Shepard’s muscled arm tense under his grip, and he realized that he had made a huge mistake. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ridgefield and Lamont watching them. Their faces were fixed in horror, just as frozen in their fear as Garrus was.

Shepard turned slowly and fixed him with a searing glare.

“You’re just off beat,” Garrus said in his best reassuring tone. He let go of her arm, half expecting a blow to the head. And he didn’t think this one would be accidental.

Shepard didn’t say anything at first. She just kept watching him with that piercing stare. Garrus was about to break the silence with an apology when she said abruptly, “show me.”

“Show you?”

“That’s right. Show me.” Her expression was unreadable. “Show me what I’m doing wrong.”

“I –” Garrus began to protest, but seeing the intensity in her gaze made him reconsider. “– okay.”

The song had changed to something more modern and – luckily – something he was more familiar with. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, building momentum into actual steps. Shepard was still watching him intently, standing with her arms crossed and a furrow in her brow.

Garrus flicked his gaze toward the bar, where he could see that Lamont had his head in his hands.          

“Shepard –” he began.

She cut him off. “Hold on.”

Garrus could almost see her counting the beats in her head as she watched him. When she did finally join him, it was with her whole body: bending her knees, swaying her hips, even swinging her arms to the beat.

Garrus had a hard time suppressing his laughter.

“That’s better!” he said, too emphatically.

“You’re a shit liar, Vakarian.”

“I’m not lying,” he said, after regaining some composure. “You’re just still offbeat.”

“Then help me!”

Whatever composure he had regained evaporated when Shepard grabbed his hands and planted them on her waist.

Garrus had heard enough squishy human jokes to be surprised at the firmness of the flesh beneath his fingers. Her core was hard from the exertions of military life, insulated by a layer of fat. Soft, but not as soft as he had imagined.

“C’mon,” she challenged. “Show me what you got.”

“Ah. Right. Just… follow my lead.”

Garrus let his momentum carry through as he resumed his simple two step, letting their bodies rock together to the beat of the music. He could feel the shifting of her hips beneath his hands – a gentle swaying motion that grew into a rolling flourish as they danced. Her movements grew bolder, and her rolling hips offered resistance against his hand.

“I said follow, not lead.”

Garrus corrected her gently and they settled back into a steady rhythm.

“Now you’re getting it.”

Shepard was still watching him with that penetrating gaze of hers, but the anger had gone from her dark eyes – replaced by something he couldn’t name. Her hands smoothed up his front to rest at the keel of his cowl, and her fingers hooked over the edge of his collar. A leg snaked around his and their hips came together, making a flush of heat spread across his chest.

They were close enough that he could smell the flowers in her hair, feel her heart beating against his chest. A fat droplet of sweat trailed slowly down the hollow of her throat, and Garrus had to suppress the crazy urge to lap it up with his tongue.

He leaned down to speak softly into her ear. “Next time I’ll teach you how to tango.”

…

It was several hours later, after two waves of patrons had come and gone, that Lamont stumbled out of the bar, leaning heavily on Ridgefield.

“I told you,” Ridgefield chastised, “not to try and outdrink a marine.”

“How does she pack so much liquor into such a teeny lil body?” Lamont slurred.

Garrus flexed his mandibles in amusement as they passed, hobbling down the dimly lit street toward the parking garage. He stood outside the door, waiting for Shepard as she settled her tab.

She came through the door at a jog not long after.

“Hey, listen. I think I dropped my credit chit in your apartment. You mind if I come over to look for it?”

“Not at all.” He paused. “Do you… need me to take care of that?”Garrus tilted his head toward the bar. He thought about the pile of shot glasses Shepard had hoarded over the course of the night and he cursed the golgi fruit sized hole in his last paycheck.

“No, it’s fine. They know I’m good for it,” Shepard said hurriedly. “Thank you, though.”  

“It’s not a problem,” he said, happy to have avoided that problem.

They started toward the parking garage together. The flickering neon lit their path, casting long shadows across the narrow street. He could still hear the dull thunder of bass from the bar, even over the whine of aircars passing overhead. They walked in amicable silence. Or they did, until Shepard spoke suddenly.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “For snapping at you, earlier.”

“Oh. Don’t worry about it, Shepard.”

“It wasn’t anything you said. I mean, it _was_ something you said,” she fumbled, “but it wasn’t because _you_ said it –”

“Shepard, really. Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just –” Shepard started. Then she stopped. When Garrus glanced over at her, he could see her mind working furiously. She set her lip between her teeth and raked a hand through her loose hair. When she finally made up her mind, she took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh.

“My mom used to take me to _obon_ every year,” she explained, her eyes fixed on the sidewalk ahead of them. “It’s an old Earth tradition, where families reunite to celebrate our ancestors. On the years that we couldn’t go back to Earth, she’d dance with me in the living room of our prefab.” Shepard smiled fondly. “My dad would make fun of me for not being able to keep the beat, and my mom would always scold him for it. She wanted me to learn, even if I sucked... I used to know all the songs, all the dances.” She paused. “I haven’t gone back since she died.”

Garrus wasn’t sure what to say to that other than, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t know.”

Shepard had talked and laughed with them for hours. Swapping military stories with him, reminiscing about Earth customs with Ridgefield, trading barbs with Lamont – but she had been surprisingly tight lipped about anything prior to her enlistment. Garrus was a good enough cop to recognize a lie by omission, but he hadn’t pressed the issue. Now she was opening up to him, and he knew that she wasn’t doing it lightly.

He opened his mouth to say something – anything – when he was interrupted by Lamont’s voice from across the parking garage.

“Hey! You comin’ too, Shepard?”

“Oh.” Garrus felt his neck flush. He’d completely forgotten about the two humans. “I came with them.”

“Oh.” Shepard looked sheepish. “And I was dropped off here. Sorry.”

“There’s plenty of room!” Lamont cried. “Just cozy up to spiny over there.”

“You know, I think we’d be better off taking a cab,” Garrus interrupted. “I got it. Don’t worry.”

Shepard grinned and turned toward the transit terminal to hail a cab. As she left, Lamont steered Ridgefield toward his turian partner.

“Don’t fuck this up,” he slurred. “I believe in you, buddy.”


	3. One Night

“I don’t see it, Shepard.”

They had rifled through his papers, overturned his takeout boxes, and shaken out his sofa cushions in search of Shepard’s credit chit. Now Shepard was on her hands and knees on the floor of Garrus’ apartment, her face pressed against the carpet as she peered under his sofa. Garrus was occupying himself by flipping through the mail on his counter, doing his very best to not stare at her upturned ass.

Shepard sat up on her knees and brushed the loose hair out of her eyes. “I must’ve left it at my buddy’s place. I’m sorry to waste your cab fare.”

“It’s alright.”

Garrus set aside his mail and looked up to see Shepard watching him over her shoulder. She seemed to be waiting for something, but Garrus had no idea what.

He struggled to think of anything at all to keep her in his apartment.

“Do you want some coffee?” Garrus blurted out.

Shepard smiled at that, seemingly satisfied. “I’d love some.”

Thank the Spirits for small achiral miracles.

He busied himself in the kitchen, pulling the container of coffee from his cabinet and setting the little coffee maker. When he turned back to her she was sitting on his couch, watching him closely. Realizing a little too late that it would be awkward to stand in the kitchen while the water boiled, he moved to his small living room and sat down beside her.

He could see Shepard watching him out of the corner of his eye. There was expectation in her eyes, and her brow was growing creased as that expectation grew. But for the life of him Garrus didn’t know what she wanted.

He tried to think of something else to make her stay, but came up with nothing. And he couldn’t just _ask her_.

Right?

The social etiquette surrounding sex in human culture was beyond him. There were so many rules, spoken and unspoken, that Garrus had a hard time understanding the raunchy tales that Lamont and Ridgefield sometimes shared. It wasn’t like turians didn’t have their own conventions, but it was nothing like the social minefield that it was with humans.

Ridgefield and Lamont had insisted that Shepard liked him. And he wanted to believe that – Spirits, did he want to believe that. His want for her was a physical ache in his limbs, a twisting knot in his stomach, a growing heat in his core. He thought about her hand on his arm, of his hands on her waist. He thought about the way she’d pressed herself against him as they danced. He thought of it, and wanted more. More of her laughter, more of her intense gaze, more of her touch.

“Garrus,” she said finally, breaking the silence.

“Shepard?” he managed.

“Are you familiar with the human concept of a ‘booty call’?”

“A what call?”

Oh, Spirits. What if Lamont had been right? What if it _had_ changed?

“Well.” Her dark eyes were bright in the darkness, tinged with devilish mirth. “It’s a term for when one person calls up another person to arrange a purely sexual encounter.”

Oh.

“It means –” She shifted on the sofa, turning onto her side to face him directly. She propped her head up on one hand, exposing her pretty neck. “– that I’m leaving for my next tour in one day. And I’d really, really like to get laid before then.”

_Oh._

“So.” She traced a finger along his forearm. “You think you could help me with that?”

“I… could... do that.” Shepard’s smile broadened. “… but.” And then it was gone.

Here it was. Here was the question. And idiot that he was, he was asking her outright. Social conventions be damned. “Couldn’t you find someone… closer to home?”

“Closer to home?” She looked confused. “What, you mean a human?” She shook her head. “I don’t want closer to home.” She smiled at him, and Garrus could swear that his heart stopped beating.

“And before you ask – no, I don’t have a turian fetish. I just like you. And I want this.” She slid a leg across his knees, settling herself in his lap. “I want you.” Her words sent a shiver down his spine, ignited something deep inside him.

“I’ve never been with a human before,” Garrus admitted.

“I’ve never been with a turian before,” Shepard answered. She grinned. “We’ll call it cultural exchange.”

Garrus laughed. Relief washed over him in a wave.

She liked him. 

“So… you think you can help me with my problem here, Garrus?”

She wanted to be with him.

Garrus’ mandibles flared. “Definitely.”

“Good.”

Shepard leaned toward him, their faces so close he could feel her breath on his face, smell the flowers in her hair. She paused. “They have kissing on your planet?” she asked.

“That’s more of a human thing. Not so popular among my people, what with the teeth and the mandibles and the total absence of lips.”

“What a shame.” She looked disappointed.

“But in the interest of cultural exchange –” He leaned forward and gave her his best approximation of a kiss.

Her lips pressed against his plates, smooth where he was rough, soft where he was hard. Her mouth moved against his, her lips parting and her tongue extending to run along the ridge of his plates. He met her tongue with his, sliding past her blunted teeth and into the warmth of her mouth. He cupped her face with his hands and held her tenderly in the kiss.

“Mm,” Shepard hummed as they slipped apart. “Not bad.”

“Not bad is good,” Garrus said. “I aim for not bad.”

“Oh, but it gets better,” Shepard said, dipping her head down to press her lips to his neck.

She plucked at his collar with one curved finger, uncovering the exposed skin of his neck. She brushed her lips lightly across his sensitive skin, kissing from his shoulder up to his jaw. Her mouth worked at patch under his jaw, kissing and licking and sucking until a low, reverberating note rose in his throat.

“I’m guessing that’s a good sound,” she said, laying a kiss on his mandible.

“A very good sound.”

Shepard brushed her fingers over his neck, still wet from her mouth.

“You know what a hickey is?”

“A what?”

“… You know what, don’t worry about it. You’ll find out tomorrow.”

Garrus was about to protest when she sat up suddenly, a grin spread across her face.

“I wanna show you something.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, not quite trusting the spark in her eye. “Show me.”

Shepard hooked her fingers under the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her head, revealing a rather scanty black bra. She twisted her arms around her back to unhook the clasp and tossed the bra roughly aside, exposing her bare breasts.

“Ta da.”

“… what am I looking at here, Shepard.”

She looked offended. “A pair of fantastic fucking tits is what you’re looking at.” She cupped them in her hands and demonstrated the way they bounced and shook.

“They’re… nice?” Garrus offered.

“’ _Nice?_ ’”

“Pretty? Sexy? I don’t know what you want from me, Shepard.”

“For fuck’s sake.” She took a hold of his hands and placed them on her breasts.

Garrus just stared at them, unsure of what to do.

“Go on,” she said. “Try ‘em out.”

He tried. He rubbed along the outside of them with his palm, stroked them with his fingers, lifted them with his hands. All of which got no reaction out of Shepard.

“Oh my God, it’s like you’re lost. Here.” She took his hands in hers. She held them to her breasts, and they gave way pleasantly under the insistent press of his fingers. She kneaded them with his hands, pushing and pulling until her breathing deepened. She guided his fingers to her brown nipples, and she moaned softly when he rolled the hardened peaks between his fingers.

He could work with that.

They were just getting into it when the coffee maker gave a shrill beep. Shepard jolted at the sound, and Garrus’ arms wrapped themselves instinctively around her middle.

“… Do you still want that coffee?” Garrus asked, finally.

Shepard’s laughter shook her whole body.

“No, Garrus,” she said when her laughter had quieted. She met his eyes, let her head sink down until her words were just a breath against his face. “I really don’t think I want that coffee anymore.” Then they were kissing again, Shepard’s lips moving against Garrus’ rigid plates. His hands slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, and gripped the backside of her thighs. Shepard’s arms came up around his cowl and her legs wrapped around his waist as he stood to carry her into his bedroom.

Garrus laid her down gently on the edge of his bed, taking care not to crush her with the weight of his carapace. He held his weight aloft on his hands and looked down at her without bothering to hide the longing in his eyes.

“See something you like?” she asked with a grin.

“A few things.”

He kissed the crook of her neck, watching with interest as the heat of his breath caused the little hairs to rise. He slipped down the defined lines of her throat and ran his tongue over the arch of her collarbone. His hands found her breasts again, massaging them with his fingers just as Shepard had showed him. Her breath caught when he touched his tongue to her nipple, then released in a pleased sigh when he traced them with his tongue.

He kissed her navel as he busied his hands with her jeans. He stood to slide them down her legs, but they caught on her boots. He tried to undo the knot with the tips of his blunted talons. When that failed, he tried tugging them off with his hands – which only caused Shepard to slide down the bed. She lifted her head to give him an amused look.

“Having trouble there, big guy?” She sat up to undo the laces of her boots and slide her pants past her ankles.

“It’s not my fault your clothing isn’t sensible.”

“Oh, and yours is?” She pulled at his shirt. “I mean, what the fuck is this all about. How’d you even manage to get into that thing?”

“I’ll show you,” he said, undoing the fasteners at his side. He pulled open his shirt, revealing the padding that rounded the sharp lines of his keel and shoulders. He shrugged out of the shirt and tossed it toward his closet.

“Hm,” she said. “Your pants work the same way?” But before he could even answer, Shepard’s hands had made short work of the fasteners at his waist to loosen his pants. Garrus supposed there was an upside to having so many fingers.

He had heard about the obscene things humans did with their mouths. Mostly through vulgar jokes and raunchy tales. But Garrus had never thought that he would experience it for himself, not until Shepard slid off his bed to kneel on the floor.

Her breath was warm as she pressed her lips to his abdomen. Her fingers dragged down the sensitive skin of his exposed waist, smoothing down his sides and then up over his protruding hips. She slipped a hand beneath the waistband of his pants, spreading her fingers down the inside of his groin plate and –

“Huh.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong. Just. Not there.”

“What do you – oh.” Her hand was still in his pants, and her face was turned up toward him expectantly. “It’s just not, ah, out. Yet.”

“Ah,” she said, raising her eyebrows in comprehension. “This not doing it for you?”

“No, it’s not that. It just takes… _time_.”

“Help me out here, Vakarian.” Shepard ran her fingertip along the seam between his plates, watching his face intently. “Yes? No?”

“Yes. I’m not far off. It just takes a little patien– oh, _Spirits_.” Shepard had yanked down the front of his pants and put her mouth on his groin plate. She kissed him once. Then her soft lips parted and her tongue darted out to play across his spreading plates. She traced him lightly with her fingertips before swiping her tongue up the length of his seam, sending a surge of heat straight down to his emerging cock.

“There you are,” she said pleasantly. His cock slid easily into her waiting hands. She flashed him a wicked smile. “I didn’t wanna ask, but I’m glad that humans and turians have similar parts.”

“Well. Turians don’t let our genitals hang out like barbarians, so it’s a reasonable mistake.”

“I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so… blue.”

“What else would it be?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Shepard didn’t answer him, content to respond with the slow movement of her hand up and down the length of his cock. His cock grew slick with his arousal, hardening beneath her hand as it moved smoothly from tip to base. She dipped her head low to press her lips to the underside of him, then her lips parted to expose her pink tongue. She drew a delicate line down the length of him. Upon reaching the base, that light touch became a broad upward stroke. Garrus suppressed a moan.

Their eyes met as she kissed the tip of his cock, pressing him into her lips until they parted around him. He slid into the wet heat of her mouth and this time Garrus couldn’t suppress his moan. He watched, fixated, as he slid farther and farther into her mouth. Slowly, Shepard withdrew off his cock, letting it rest against her lips before repeating the motion. The way that she turned her dark eyes up toward his face, watching him closely as she took him between her lips, made Garrus’ cock pulse.

Shepard took a hold of his hand and guided it to the back of her head, spreading his fingers through her hair. Her mouth and her closed fist moved up and down the length of him, her other hand hooked around the spur of his hip for balance. At first her pace was slow, sensual, tantalizing. But as his arousal grew Garrus began urging her faster, matching her downward strokes with the press of his hand into the tangles of her hair.

Shepard was happy to oblige him.

Garrus caught a fistful of her hair when the tip of his cock pressed against the back of Shepard’s throat, impossibly deep. She slipped off of him with a wet pop, taking a few heavy breaths before diving back in on him – licking and stroking and sucking until his nerves were lit afire. He twisted both of his hands into her thick hair and let out a low, rumbling moan. Already he could feel the fire spreading through him, burning through the very last of his restraint. “Shepard, wait,” he managed to choke out. “I’m going to –”

The next thing he knew, his cock was waving indignantly in the cool air of his apartment. Shepard was sitting on her heels, licking her lips with satisfaction.

“Not gonna happen,” she said, smiling that devilish smile. “Not before you’ve fucked me.”

Garrus was happy to indulge her.

Shepard had barely finished helping him out of his pants before he was on her again, kissing her as best he could. His slick cock was pressed against the soft flesh of her thigh, already aching for her touch. He lay beside her on the bed, propping himself up on one arm and smoothing the other hand down her body. It traveled over her breasts, her muscled abdomen, into her panties, and down to the slickness at the meeting of her thighs. He slid a long finger into her, exploring the soft wet flesh between her folds. The pad of his finger passed over a mound of hardened flesh and she shuddered beneath him.

He pulled out of the kiss, looked down at her with concern. “Yes? No?”

“Yes. Very yes,” she said softly. She maneuvered a hand between them and took a hold of his. She pressed the pad of his finger to her clit and moved it around in slow circles. “Just like that,” she breathed.

Garrus kept his gaze fixed on Shepard’s face as he rolled the rigid flesh of her clit beneath his finger, watching her shifting expression with no small amount of pleasure. Her dark eyes met his, and she reached up to lay a hand on his cheek. She urged him down into another kiss, and Garrus could feel her deepened breathing against his face. Her tongue traced over the ridge of his mouth plate, and he could taste himself on her tongue. Suddenly Garrus was struck with an idea.

He broke the kiss, catching a glimpse of her surprised expression as he slid down the bed until he was kneeling on the floor. He pulled her panties down her legs and tossed them aside. He caught Shepard’s legs at the knee, and she made a soft noise of protest when he pulled her down toward the edge of the bed. She sat up on her elbows to give him a confused look.

“I want to try something,” he said, pressing a kiss to the inside of Shepard’s thigh. “If you’re willing.”

Realization seemed to come to her, because her eyebrows shot up toward her hairline. Then it was back to that devilish smile of hers.

“You’re catching on, Vakarian. I like it.”

“I’ve always been a fast learner.”

Shepard’s legs fell open, and Garrus was blessed with a full view of her pussy. She was slick with arousal; he could see that even in the dim light of his bedroom. Her folds were parted to reveal the pink flesh within, framed by her dark, curling hair.

“I see it now. You are definitely not blue down there.”

Shepard laughed. “Though apparently we’re something of a minority there. Who knew.”

Garrus pressed the pad of his thumb to Shepard’s clit, noting with satisfaction the way that she sighed with pleasure at his touch. He rubbed her gently, letting her arousal build as he kissed up the inside of her thigh. He extended his thick tongue to taste her – salty and bright.

“How’s it taste?” Shepard asked, drawing his eyes up to her face.

Garrus didn’t say anything, instead swiping his tongue across her clit in answer.

“Oh _God,_ ” she breathed, letting her head tilt back on her shoulders.

He pressed his tongue to the hard flesh of her clit, rolling it under the tip of his tongue. She moaned in answer, and over the smooth expanse of her belly he could see her push a hand into her tangled hair. He watched her breasts rise and fall with her breathing as he stroked her with his tongue, keeping note of when it was deep and even and when it hitched and caught.

He smoothed a hand up the inside of her thigh, then slipped a finger between her folds. He touched her entrance lightly with his finger, careful with his blunted talon. He applied pressure, and she gave way beneath his touch. He didn’t even have a chance to ask before the words came spilling out of her. “Oh, yes. Yes. Yes, _God_ , yes.”

The sensation of her – warm, wet, unbelievably soft – was enough to send a pang of want through his cock.

Shepard’s hands had found her breasts, rolling and kneading and squeezing them as Garrus worked her with his mouth. Her breathing was growing ragged, and her soft, breathy moans were growing more frequent. He slipped a second finger inside of her and made her cry out in pleasure, stroking up the inside of her.

“Oh God, please don’t stop.” Her voice was high and breathless, “Don’t stop. Oh God. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna –”

Garrus pulled away, removing both of his fingers and his tongue. When Shepard sat up she looked betrayed. Garrus dragged a hand across his mouth, wiping the remnants of her off his face.

“I think we both know what needs to happen first.”

“Yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it, big guy?” Shepard asked, breathing heavily.

He answered her challenge by gripping her thighs and pushing them apart, filling the considerable gap between her legs as he stood.

Spirits bless humans and their flexibility.

Garrus rocked his hips against her, letting his cock slip through her folds and pass over her clit. Shepard’s breath hitched with each stroke, tensing and relaxing in anticipation. He let his eyes travel up her body, past her thick waist and her flattened breasts to her striking face. Her black hair was fanned out around her head, twisted and tangled. Her heavy lids had sunk low over her dark eyes, and she watched him through her lashes. Her lipstick was smudged at the corner of her mouth, and she was breathing through parted lips.

He leaned down to kiss her deeply. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he said quietly.

“Oh, I knew.” Shepard smiled impishly. “But I could’ve blown you on that dance floor and you still wouldn’t have asked me out.”

“That’s not –” he began, but Shepard cut him off with another kiss.

Shepard held his face in her hands, looked straight into his eyes with that penetrating gaze. “Just fuck me, already.”

Garrus stood up to slide a hand between their bodies. He guided his cock to her entrance, and then he did as he was told.

He started slowly, sliding his cock in and out of her as her body relaxed around him. When she looked like she was ready, he released his grip on his cock to hold her waist. He stroked once, and then twice, and then he lost himself in the sensation of her – soft and wet and warm.

Garrus’ translator couldn’t pick up half the words Shepard was saying as she switched from language to language. But he could guess. He could recognize the curses by the way she hissed them through her teeth. He could make out his name on the end of her moans. And there was no translating the need in her voice as she urged him faster, harder, _deeper._

Shepard had one hand tangled in his bedspread, gripping it with white knuckles. The other was between her legs, rubbing her clit just as she had shown him earlier. She raked her teeth across her lower lip, then released it as she moaned. Her breathing was uneven, gasping in breaths between her high cries.

Shepard’s hand came off his bedspread to grip his arm.

“I’m gonna come,” she whispered between labored breaths. “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna –”

Garrus watched as her whole body tensed, wound tight as a spring. Her back arched and her head fell back on her shoulders. She was deathly silent at first. Then the sound came exploding out of her all at once – a high, keening cry unlike anything he’d ever heard. Her orgasm rippled through her, making her limbs shake and her fingers close tightly around his arm. Her body tightened around him, pulsing and squeezing around his cock until it was too much to bear.

He fell out of the steady rhythm he had built to thrust into her wildly, using his hold around Shepard’s waist to pull her into each stroke. He let out a low, thundering moan as he came. The waves of his orgasm washed over him, one after another, as he emptied himself inside her.

Garrus opened his eyes, not remembering when he had closed them. Shepard lay still on his bed, her breasts rising and falling with her heavy breaths. He released his grip on her waist, and Shepard’s hold on his arm came loose as he moved. He caught her hand in both of his and found that she was trembling.

“You’re shaking,” he said with concern.

“Happens sometimes,” she answered, “when you’ve had your brains fucked out.”

Garrus laughed softly. “So. Not bad?”

Shepard lifted her head to give him a sweet smile. “It was _nice._ ”

Garrus was still formulating a response when Shepard slipped her hand out of his grasp, sitting up on her elbows. “Okay. As much as I’ve enjoyed having your cock in me, it’s time to go. I really have to pee.”

It was as he was slipping out of her that he noticed the damage he’d done. The insides of her legs were rubbed raw from his plates, and long purpling bruises marked where his hips had dug into her thighs. He’d even left marks on her waist where his talons had bit into her skin. He felt sick.

Maybe he had found the reason why turians and humans never got together.

“Shepard –” he began, but she cut him off with an upheld finger.

“Pee first. Debriefing after.” She swung her legs off the side of the bed and hurried to his bathroom.

Garrus was sitting on the edge of the bed when Shepard returned a few minutes later. There was a noticeable shake in her legs, and she paused in the doorway to lean against the frame. She groaned, pressing a hand to her abdomen. “I’m definitely gonna feel that in the morning.”

“Shepard, I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” There was a wicked spark in her eye. “I can’t fucking walk, Garrus. My buddies are gonna see me hobbling around during PT and they’re gonna wanna know what – _who_ – I did over my shore leave. I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

Garrus swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Shepard’s expression softened. “I’m just kidding. It’s not that bad.”

“‘Not that bad,’” he said, “is still not good.”

“C’mon.” Shepard moved to sit beside him on the bed. “I’ve had worse. Getting hit by a Mako was definitely more painful than this.”

Garrus’ mandibles pressed against his face.

“I’m still kidding.” Shepard bumped his shoulder with hers. “But I mean if it’ll make you feel better, I can hit _you_ repeatedly in the crotch. Probably won’t be as fun for you as it was for me, though.”

Garrus laughed, harder than was probably warranted for the joke.

Shepard smiled. “Really, though. For my first time trying interspecies xeno sex it was pretty great.”

“ _First_ time, huh?”

“Well. I do have a whole day to myself tomorrow. Who knows what could happen.”

Maybe it was just the afterglow of his orgasm, but Garrus felt a warm swell of affection rise in his chest. He turned his hand over on his thigh, offering his palm to her. Shepard paused, contemplating his open hand. He could see her thoughts roiling in her mind, her expression shifting with apprehension. He was reminded of the way she’d looked at him on the streets outside the bar, uncertainty painted on her face. Maybe this was too much to ask of her. He was about to put his hand away when she slipped her fingers between his. His mandibles flared, and he squeezed her hand gently.

“I’m glad I broke into your apartment,” she admitted.

Garrus’ mandibles spread at that. “I am too.”

“But there’s one more thing I have to ask.”

“Shoot.”

“They have cuddling on your planet?”


	4. Zero Hour

Garrus woke to the ringing of someone else’s omnitool.

Shepard groaned softly as the sound roused her. She lay on her side beside him, the sheets pooled around the curve of her waist. She shifted in the bed, raising her arm to check the time on her omnitool. Dissatisfied, she shook her wrist until the ringing stopped.

Garrus flared his mandibles at her inelegant solution. He reached out to lay a hand on her back, running down the ridges of her spine before rounding her hip and coming to rest at her waist. His palm smoothed over her belly as Shepard turned over under his hand.

He kissed her sleepy face. First her forehead, then her exposed cheek, and lastly her soft lips. He saw a sliver of dark brown appear beneath her lashes before he slipped back into sleep.

…

When the chiming of his omnitool woke him an hour later, the pillow beside him was empty and his sheets were thrown open.

Garrus sat up in his bed and cast his gaze around the room. Shepard’s clothes were gone, and his bed was empty.

Garrus felt a pang of disappointment in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he had expected after their night together, but it wasn’t this. The reluctance in her voice when she had told him her story, the hesitation on her face when she had taken his hand – it should have been obvious. It was stupid of him to think that she’d stay after their… how had she described it? Purely sexual encounter. He shook his head. ~~~~

Stupid.

He walked out of his bedroom and out to his living room, making his way to the kitchen.

And there was Shepard, leaning against his counter. She’d recovered her shirt and panties off the floor of his living room and bedroom, respectively. Her hair was tied in a messy braid at her shoulder, and most of her makeup had been wiped off during the night.

She looked up from her omnitool as he approached, a smile spreading across her face.

“Good morning. Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”

Garrus felt his mandibles flare in equal parts relief and pleasant surprise.

“I’d love some.”

Shepard tilted her head toward the coffeemaker. “Pot’s on. Should be ready any second. I also raided your fridge, but it’s literally all condiments. Who needs two bottles of ketchup anyway?” She gestured dismissively. “I thought we could go out and get breakfast. I know this place; it’s got the best –”

Garrus had been moving toward her while she spoke, closing the distance across the kitchen. His hands found her waist, and his mouth found hers. Shepard’s arms came up around his cowl, and they both settled into the kiss.

“– hangover cure,” she finished, when Garrus pulled away from her. She smiled up at him, her dark eyes filled with laughter. “What was that for?”

“I’m just happy you’re still here,” Garrus admitted.

“Oh no, you won’t get off the hook that easy.” Shepard smoothed her hands over his cowl to rest on his chest. “I’ve got plans for us.”

“Oh? What kind of plans?”

There was a spark of mischief in her eye. “Evil plans.”

“You know,” he rumbled, “I’d have to arrest you for that.”

“Ooh, that’d be interesting.” She stood on her toes to speak quietly in his ear. “I wanna know if you’re a good cop or a bad cop.”

Garrus kissed her again. The coffeemaker gave a shrill beep, but this time neither of them took notice. His hands were sliding down Shepard’s waist to slip beneath the elastic band of her panties when Shepard caught him by the wrist. “Ah-ah,” she said as she broke the kiss.

“Not before breakfast.” She smiled her devilish smile as she slipped from his arms. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“You can’t wait?” he complained.

“ _You_ can’t wait?” she turned the question back on him as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

“I could. I mean I would. But it’s, ah, already _started_.”

“I’m sorry, are your biological urges more important than mine?” Shepard watched him impassively as she poured a questionable amount of sugar into her coffee.

“No, but –”

“Then drink your fucking coffee and we’ll go out for a nice breakfast.” She sipped from her mug. “Then we’ll bang, okay?”

“You’re terrible,” he said. But he couldn’t help the way his mandibles flared as she passed.

“Terrible,” she agreed, settling against the counter and opening her omnitool.

As Garrus poured his coffee he was struck by the strangeness of their situation. Thirty hours ago they had been getting drunk in separate bars in separate Wards. Twenty hours ago they had met in a chance encounter in his living room. Ten hours ago they’d slept together. One hour ago they’d woken up together.

Ridgefield had said that destiny wouldn’t intervene. Garrus couldn’t help but feel that it already had.

“ _Shit!”_ The sound burst out of Shepard and Garrus nearly dropped his coffee cup.

“Spirits! What’s wrong?”

“I’ve gotta report early.” She swatted away the haptic interface and spread her fingers over her face. “Shore leave is over.”

Garrus just stared at her. “You… when?”

“Two hours.” Shepard’s eyes were closed and her brow was wrinkled. “I’m sorry, Garrus.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Where are you going?”

“I would tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m joking.” She smiled wanly. “The Skyllian Verge. Lots of reports of pirate activity. The bad kind.”

Garrus felt his heart sink. The Verge was several mass relay jumps away, on the outer edge of human territory. He had been hoping –

Hoping for what, exactly?

His disappointment must have shown on his face, because Shepard put on a grin and spread her hands.

“Hey. If you’re ever on Elysium, you know who to call.”

“I’ll keep you in mind,” he said, and meant it.

“Well. I’m a pretty unforgettable person.”

Garrus set aside his coffee to reach for her hand. “You are.” He pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her lips.

He kissed her deeply. She answered him with urgency, her mouth working against his plates as his tongue slid into the warmth of her mouth. He wound his arms around her back and pulled her deeper into the kiss. Shepard’s hands roamed down his chest to stroke his exposed waist with her fingers, and a low thrum rose in his throat.

“Do you still want to get breakfast?” he asked her in a low voice.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t want breakfast anymore.”

Garrus went for her neck, and Shepard gasped in surprise. He crowded her into the counter, his keel pressing against her soft breasts. His already loosened plates were beginning to spread, and he could tell by her uneven breathing that she was just as aroused. He nuzzled the smooth skin of her neck with his rough plates before drawing a line with his tongue from her shoulder to her jaw. She shivered under his attentions.

“Bedroom?” she asked, already breathless.

“No,” he rumbled. “Right here.”

A soft, breathy laugh escaped her as his hands slid down to grip her waist. Shepard pressed her palms flat on the counter and he helped her hop on top of it. She spread her legs invitingly, and Garrus filled the space between them. His hands smoothed up her thighs and slipped under her shirt to hold her breasts, squeezing and kneading them with his fingers until she moaned.

His hands moved downward to hook his fingers under the waistband of her panties, and Shepard lifted her hips as he slid them down her legs. He slipped a hand between her thighs to find that she was already wet. He found her clit with his fingers, and Shepard ground her hips against his hand.

“Garrus,” his name was just a breath against his face.

Garrus rumbled in answer, sliding a finger inside her.

“Fuck me.”

Shepard reached between them to stroke his widening seam. It didn’t take much for his cock to slip into her hand. Without pause Shepard guided him to her entrance.

“Fuck me now.”

Garrus exchanged his finger for his cock.

Shepard cried out as he entered her, gripping his shoulders with white knuckles. Her legs came up around his waist, squeezing him between her thighs. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing hard against his skin. They rocked together gently, Shepard crossing her ankles behind his back and Garrus pressing deeper into her until she took him completely.

His hands traveled across her back and down her arms, lifting them from around his shoulders.

“I want to see you.”

Shepard met his eyes as she sat back on the counter. They fell closed as he started to move inside her.

Garrus wanted to commit every part of her to his memory. Her wicked smile, her piercing gaze, the smell of gardenias in her hair, the golden hue of her brown skin, the softness of her breasts, the press of her thighs against his waist. But most of all, he wanted to remember the way she said his name.

“Garrus – _fuck_.” She struggled to speak between her breathy moans. “Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

He tightened his grip on her waist and fucked her hard, making her cry out his name.

Last night they had taken their time exploring each other’s bodies. This morning they coupled with desperation, knowing their time was limited.

Shepard sat up suddenly when she came, throwing her arms around his neck and rolling her hips wildly against him. He tried to time his thrusts with the bucking of her lips, fucking her harder and deeper. He kissed her roughly, parting her lips with his thick tongue and smothering her cries.

Garrus moaned into Shepard’s open mouth as he came, the low thrumming of his throat taking on the quality of a growl. He fucked her without restraint, making her cry desperately into his mouth and scrabble at his plates with her fingers. His cock pulsed as his orgasm rocked through him, sending shocks of pleasure through his body. His pace slowed and then stopped, his cock slipping out of her as it began to soften.

Shepard’s arm shook around his shoulders, and her breasts pressed against his chest as she breathed. Garrus smoothed his hands up her back to hold her close, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She relaxed her hold on him to sit back on the counter, meeting his gaze before kissing him gently.

“I never asked you,” she said quietly, “if you have anything like kissing on your planet.”

“We do.” Garrus leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers. Considering everything else they had done, the gesture felt far more intimate than it should have.

“It’s nice,” she said, finally.

“Nice, or _nice_?”

“Nice.” She smiled contentedly, letting her eyes fall closed.

They shared a few quiet moments before Garrus finally spoke. “Will I see you again?”

He knew even before the words left his mouth that it was a loaded question. They had both gone into this with no expectations, no commitments. Their time had always been limited. But seeing what little time they had left taken away –it made Garrus realize he wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Maybe he had never been ready to say goodbye.

Shepard laughed at first, but upon seeing the serious look in his eye she stopped. He saw the hesitation in her eyes, the same hesitation he’d seen when she had shared with him on the streets, the same hesitation he’d seen before she had taken his hand. For a moment Garrus thought she’d leave him right then. That she’d take her things and walk out of his life, as quickly as she’d walked in.

But then she smiled, so genuinely it made his heart ache.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I think you will.”


End file.
